#this is only partly in jest

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I’m a religious syncretic, I love both Star Trek and LOTR ✨ you’re welcome to join me if ya want! we have:

-high holidays (threshold day, sub rosa day, middle-earth new year, hobbit day, 7/9 day, durin’s day, etc)

-sacred music (shire theme, star trek theme, rohan theme, stiv theme, edge of night, beyond antares, nature’s reclamation, etc)

-special foods (po-ta-toes, italian [food], strawberries with cream, mint juleps, appreciation for a good ale, etc)

-guiding principles (IDIC, valuing food+cheer+song above hoarded gold, equity and equal rights for all, friendship and love and hope, doing good for goodness’s sake, being true to yourself, science appreciation, gorgeous textiles, enjoying a simple/comforting life, nature conservation and respect, anticapitalism, etc)

-icons (uhura, arwen, spock, aragorn, frodo, ben sisko, kira nerys, eowyn, etc)

-beautiful lyrical texts (LOTR, the silmarillion, unfinished tales, the wounded sky, spock’s world, etc)

and more!

[warpedpuppeteer]

I actually like to pretend they do and it gives me motivation to write 😂😂😂 Maybe they're leaving those heart emoji comments too who knows certainly not me. I hope they're enjoying them though 😌

yall ever sit and wonder if ryan and oliver have read one of your fics

[rpking99]

Love Of Rivals

Closed with @the-blackbird-roleplays

Closed from here

John smiled at the two beautiful women who'd quite literally fallen into his life. He sighed softly, managing to get them both to calm down after a rather skillful use of his soda guns and dousing them both in arctic-cold water... Which led to now. Their clothes drying, and the three of them in only their underwear and in his bed in the apartment above his Crescent City bar.

"I hope so. Have to get you two to pay me back for the roof somehow..." He grinned, slowly crawling forward and nestling his hips between Kim's thighs. "It'll cost me a few grand to get the glass ceiling fixed... Few hundred more for the tables and chairs... I wonder how we can work out that... Arrangement~" He was speaking in jest, though only partly. In truth, the moment he saw them aggressively making out as he dried their clothes he knew how the night was going to go...

"Well, I think taking Kimmie-pops first time will be good enough payment. Don't you think~?" Shego hummed with a grin, teasingly running her fingers along Kim's blue panties. Right along her covered slit

"Mmm~! Aah!" Kim shuddered out with her eyes flickering back a bit, a smile forming upon her face "Mwans I get first round? I'll take it."

[strigimorphaes]

Gin & Tonics, 2,3k words for @passtheseppie and @cannibaltamau (because of the somnophillia discussions & fic you brought onto my dash)

Description: Tadej gets too drunk at G's flat. A situation ensues. Rating: E Contains: Consensual somnophillia and sex while drunk, intercrural sex, a handjob, an attempt at being seductive, porn without plot. Written in less than one day, so very much a speed writing gotta-get-the-idea-out-of-my-head ficlet thing, not like... up to my usual standards, but have at it <3

During the tour, everyone was asking what Tadej was capable of and what he'd try to do next. Quite a bit further down the GC ranking, Geraint was asking, too. After the Tour, he gets answers: Tadej is capable of drinking exactly two gin & tonics before he's drunk, and what he'll try to do next is go for the third and then sit way too close to Geraint on the couch. Their thighs are touching even though there are two entire other cushions Tadej could’ve chosen. This was not where Geraint was expecting the partly-in-jest invitation to lead him.

Tadej leans against his shoulder and yawns; his shirt is riding up. Geraint would suspect Tadej of trying to seem seductive if he wasn't also eating a handful of peanuts out of his palm with the complete disregard for caloric content only found in a man who just won a Grand Tour. Tadej lifts the glass to his lips, and Geraint decides to be a little responsible.

"Tadej," Geraint says. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

"I'm celebrating?" Tadej says, swirling the liquid in his glass around. “Just… It tastes good, this.”

" There's lightweights and then there's you, mate. You're going to pass out on me.”

Tadej doesn't drink another sip, but he doesn't let go of the glass, either. “Just let me. Let me drink, I mean.”

“Are you really just here to get sloshed?” Geraint asks. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

"We have talked,” Tadej says, and that is true, but it was idle small-talk when the way Tadej insisted on it being just them tonight made Geraint suspect it’d be something more serious. He’s not unwilling to be someone Tadej comes to for a break from the rest of his tightly regimented life, but in that case, there are things Geraint would have liked to do to make it a better time with more friends and a better venue than his flat. Tadej pauses for a moment before saying, “I am a little nervous."

He puts his hand on Geraint’s thigh.

Oh.

"...You, nervous? What do you have to be nervous about?" Geraint says, buying time to think this over. Pretty young man alone with him, acting like that. But so drunk. He thinks Tadej does a lot of things without thinking it through; those sudden attacks, deviations from finely laid strategies if there ever was a strategy to begin with. But he also thinks that some of those daring things Tadej does are calculated.

Tadej’s thumb rubs a little circle on Geraint’s thigh. "I have nice man with me...” he begins. “And I think he wants to do something fun with me. But I'm not sure."

Geraint's throat tightens. "You're too drunk for that stuff. Listen to yourself - you're falling asleep while you're talking, Tadej. Let's just put you to bed and talk in the morning, okay? I'll make up the couch for you and - "

"No. I like it like this." Tadej squeezes Geraint's leg and looks up, letting his head lie on Geraint's shoulder. "Want you to do it while I'm like this."

Geraint sits there, feeling Tadej's body against his own. Tadej's lovely little body. Heavy with sleep already, and if he really is nervous, Geraint can’t feel it. No jitters, nothing uncertain about his tone of voice. Just the weight of his head on Geraint’s shoulder and his hand on Geraint’s thigh.

"If I fall asleep you can just... Touch me, yes?” Tadej says. ”Take my clothes off. Make so when I wake up I see what you did."

Geraint doesn't know how to respond to that. Thoughts flash through his own semi-intoxicated mind – Tadej wants him – but not enough to want to remember him or look at him while – what, exactly? Geraint does want to touch him. It’d be easy. The Tour does strange things to people. You seek relief in all kinds of places after.

All that comes out of Geraint’s mouth is: "Is this, uh... something you do on the reg?"

“No,” Tadej says, a faint smile on his face. "I trust few people like this."

"You don’t really know me.”

"I know you won the Tour and you can keep secret."

"What does the Tour have to do with - "

Tadej giggles - an adorable sound, but not entirely pleasant, making Geraint feel that there's part of the joke that's on him. "Dunno. I just like you. I - oops!"

Tadej has spilled a bit of the drink on his pants. He smiles and drinks the rest of the glass.

"Okay," Geraint says, noticing the miniscule, pleased reaction Tadej gives him before he goes on: "You're resting up."

He manages to get out from under Tadej, who falls down flat on his back. From there, he watches Geraint as he leaves to get something that can make the couch more bedlike.

“Make sure I rest good then.”

Geraint retreats to the linen closet. A couple of pillows, pillow covers, a blanket... What a lad, Tadej. Geraint never quite knows where he has him. And the feeling’s so obviously not mutual when Tadej expects he’ll get what he wants just like that. Someone less nice than Geraint would have drawn a dick on his face and sent pictures. Or… actually done as he suggested.

When Geraint comes back with his arms full of blankets, Tadej's asleep.

Or pretending to be asleep, at least.

Either way his eyes are closed and his hands are lying on his chest. There'd space enough on the couch for Geraint to sit down beside him on the edge of the cushion.

He looks so small.

Geraint comes to the conclusion that the universe hates him in particular right now. He has gotten used to rainy weather and crashes and climbs, but despite psyching himself up for this on the walk back down the hallway, he’s unprepared for a sleeping twink on his couch. One he has permission to touch. It is absoluty certain that he'll feel like a dirty old man if he does.

So he shouldn’t.

He sits there watching Tadej breathe slowly and evenly. If he’s pretending to sleep, he’s doing a good job of it.

You can touch.

What does Tadej see in that idea? Hasn’t enough been done to him over the course of these last three weeks? If he needed sexual relief – a bloody miracle of biology, that, if he has energy for that stuff after a Tour – why not go at it awake?

Geraint puts a hand on Tadej’s side. Body heat radiates through the fabric of his T-shirt. There is no reaction.

Maybe there’s something there. Not having to react, not having to be anything but there so Geraint can’t help himself up slide his hand a little lower. Nobody is going to know. Not even Tadej, if Geraint doesn't want him to. Though if Geraint is going to do this – really do this – he should, well, let Tadej have what he wants out of it, too, make something Tadej will see in the morning. Maybe.  Geraint's fingertips find the exposed skin between Tadej's pants and the hem of the shirt. Index, middle finger, ring finger. He slides his hand slowly up under the T-shirt. Tadej inhales - maybe it tickled? His eyes stay shut, though.

Geraint knows at once that this was going too far. Now he won't be able to stop. He can deny himself what he wants for ages as long as he doesn't take that first little step in the wrong direction, but after the Tour just one beer or one sweet sets off a chain reaction. And now Tadej’s hands are in the way, so Geraint takes hold of them as gently as possible and moves them aside. Now he can push the shirt all the way up past Tadej’s nipples and see the pale skin, his ribs, his belly softened by the meal Geraint gave him. Tadej's so pretty like this, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. He doesn't react at all when Geraint unbuttons the fly of his pants - or is it only Geraint's imagination that he smiles a little in his sleep?

Geraint is semi-hard from just looking. Actually, he corrects himself, it's hardly just looking when he’s staring at the world's best cyclist all defenseless and trusting. Of course that'd affect him. He’s looked at Tadej before – everyone has – the TT-suit comes to mind. Of course he'd want to see more. Feel more. He sticks his hand down Tadej's pants and feels the soft fabric of his underwear, the shape of his sex underneath. A little bit of movement and pressure, just like this, makes Tadej firm up in his hand. His face has gotten a little redder, his breathing a little deeper. When Geraint closes his hand around Tadej’s shaft and strokes him in earnest, Tadej sighs. He sounds content. For a moment, Geraint's afraid he's woken up – not that that wouldn’t be nice, since Tadej apparently does want him, but – yeah, Geraint’s not going to think too long about why he almost likes this more than the thought of Tadej being awake. He’s in control, now, something he’s never experienced with Tadej before. He’s careful, listening to Tadej’s deep breaths to not go too fast too soon, mirroring what he does to Tadej with his other hand. He hopes he won’t feel too ashamed tomorrow. It just feels too good. For a moment, he lets go of Tadej to focus on himself, and then Tadej makes an annoyed little noise.

Again, Geraint waits to check he didn’t wake. Tadej smacks his lips and turns back onto his side, his back to Geraint. Geraint gets a new idea that he isn't too proud of, but if Tadej want to be used, then...

Geraint lies down beside him. Gently, he pushes Tadej’s pants down his thighs and lets them bunch around his knees. Beautiful curves. He’s so pliant, his legs so easy to arrange the way Geraint wants them. Geraint spits in his hand and moves a little closer. Strokes himself until he thinks he'll slide fine against Tadej's thighs and ass, the warm skin, the muscles that are  so supple and soft when Tadej's relaxed like this and not using them to ride so bloody fast. Now Geraint's using him to get off, and it's the idea more than the sensation that works wonders. And fair’s fair, Geraint lets him have something, too, reaching around. He makes a tight ring of his fingers and strokes Tadej slow, base to tip. It’s a lucky thing he’s so small, easy to handle.

Tadej's eyelashes flutter. His deep breaths don't change much. Maybe he's dreaming when Geraint slides into the space between Tadej's thighs. Geraint decides he won't clean him up after. Tadej's going to wake up with come and spit dried on his thighs, his clothes pushed aside so it's obvious what happened. The thought of Tadej exploring the evidence makes Geraint's stomach tighten pleasantly, and he moves a little faster, wondering if the sound of his own breathing is too loud. He tries his hardest not to make a sound, but he can barely tell how he’s doing when his pulse is beating so loudly in his ears.

He's glad he doesn’t have to explain himself. There’s no acting, no playing nice. Just Tadej's body. Just their common need. Tadej doesn’t have to do anything but surrender. Geraint can't imagine himself allowing someone else to grope him like this – to be so vulnerable and used. Vulnerability, he thinks, is probably a far rarer treat for Tadej than being drunk.

With every slow thrust, Geraint breathes in Tadej’s scent and relishes in the slow progression towards his climax. No rush, nothing to distract him from the build-up. Tadej’s warmer, his cock twitching in Geraint’s hand. Now he moans, a sound that sounds a little too conscious -

"Shh," Geraint whispers. Though his body doesn't like it one bit, he pauses his grinding motions as he waits for Tadej to calm back down. "Don't worry. Shh. Nothing’s happening, just go back to sleep."

A long exhale. Tadej becomes heavy and still once more, helped by Geraint letting his arm lie draped around his waist, putting more weight behind the touch. Nice, even breaths. Geraint can feel Tadej’s chest rise and fall.

"That's it."

Tadej doesn't react again, sinking deeper into relaxation even as Geraint does the opposite, fighting the urge to grab Tadej's hips and pull him closer. But he does what Tadej wanted. He sticks to rubbing himself against Tadej's thighs and backside until he feels close enough to coming that he takes himself in hand to finish. It feels safe in a way he’s unused to – nobody looking at him, listening to him, and he’s entirely in control of how it happens. He gasps, but keeps all other sounds down as he comes on Tadej’s skin. He wipes his hand on Tadej's lower stomach, leaving that for him to see tomorrow.

And then Tadej. The lad deserves it. Careful, slow, teasing – Geraint rubs the head of his cock with one hand while he lets the other find a rhythm that has Tadej’s hips starting to move with him. Tadej’s eyes open just a slight bit, his lips parting when his muscles contract and make him curl up. A bit of spit dribbles from the corner of his mouth, running over his chin. Geraint presses his chest against Tadej’s back, whispering in his ear.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. Shh, just let yourself go. Just go back to sleep.”

He leaves Tadej on the couch half undressed, the come and spit drying on his body.

---

In the morning, Tadej takes a very, very long shower. Geraint is under no illusions that he isn’t jerking off in there while he inspects the fluids still on him, but lets it slide. They share a brief breakfast during which Tadej agrees to foot the dry cleaning bill for the sofa cushions.

“What’s on there?” Tadej asks. “Did I spill the gin? I don’t recall.”

“Something like that,” Geraint says, though they both know he’s just pretending.

[rosyrosethings]

Assistant Prank CEO Harry

This is series on my page. Harry's assistant stays with him. Just short and sweet

On a seemingly ordinary Friday, the atmosphere in Harry and Y/n's shared residence was tinged with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. Harry, known for his meticulous nature and a deep sense of responsibility towards those he cared about, was preparing for a rare weekend getaway. His destination was a cozy retreat in the countryside, where he planned to spend some quality time with his girlfriend, Bridget. This trip was a much-needed break from his demanding work schedule, offering a chance to recharge and nurture his personal relationships.

However, this departure was marked by an unusual heaviness, primarily because it meant leaving Y/n alone in the house. Y/n was not just a housemate but played a crucial role in Harry's life, managing the balance between a confidante and a responsibility he felt deeply for. The thought of leaving her alone, even for a weekend, didn't sit well with him, stirring a protective instinct that he often found hard to dismiss.

“Y/n, text me if anything goes wrong, okay?” Harry implored, his voice laced with concern as he slipped into his coat, ready to step out into the brisk morning air.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. Styles. I’ll be fine. I’ve been here alone before,” Y/n responded, her tone light and teasing, aiming to inject a bit of humor into the heavy atmosphere. She approached Harry, extending his bag towards him with a gentle smile. “I packed your laptop because God knows what would happen to you if you don’t work for one second out of the day,” she added, her voice soft yet playful, aware of Harry's relentless work ethic.

Harry couldn't help but smile, a genuine expression of gratitude and fondness. “Bye, Y/n,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance to leave.

As the door closed behind him, Y/n secured the lock and made her way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a sense of solitude enveloping her. To distract herself, she decided to scroll through TikTok, letting the endless stream of videos wash over her. It wasn't long before she stumbled upon a prank trend that immediately sparked an idea. The premise was simple yet mischievously effective: texting someone “you can come over now, he’s gone,” implying a clandestine meeting now that an obstacle—typically a significant other or a parent—was out of the picture. Chuckling at the thought, Y/n couldn't resist the urge to execute this playful scheme on Harry.

‘You can come over now babe, my boss is gone.’

She sent the message, a giggle escaping her lips as she imagined Harry's reaction, picturing his bewildered face trying to decode the message.

Harry, meanwhile, was only ten minutes away, his mind partly on the road and partly entwined with thoughts of Bridget and the weekend ahead. His phone buzzed with a notification, a text from Y/n. Assuming he had forgotten something at home, he glanced at the message, his eyes widening in disbelief. The words on the screen seemed to rearrange themselves, challenging his understanding. “Is she having someone over? And did she call them babe?” he muttered to himself, confusion and concern taking hold.

Without a second thought, Harry executed a swift U-turn, ignoring the chorus of honks from startled drivers. His mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. Upon arriving back at the house, he entered to find Y/n lounging on the couch, her eyes meeting his with an innocent curiosity.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Harry inquired, his voice carrying a mix of jest and underlying seriousness as he approached her.

“No, why would I?” Y/n replied, her tone playful yet genuine, puzzled by the intensity of his reaction.

“Then why did you send me a text saying, ‘you can come over now, my boss is gone’?” Harry pressed, seeking clarity amidst the confusion.

“Because I thought it would be funny to see your reaction,” Y/n confessed, a giggle punctuating her words as she sat up, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Harry, however, was not immediately appeased. The protective instinct that had made him uneasy about leaving surged stronger. “Actually, I’m staying here. Bridget can come over here. I don’t want any boys coming around here,” he declared, a firm resolve setting in as he removed his coat, symbolically dismissing the prospect of leaving.

“Mr. Styles, it was a prank,” Y/n tried to clarify, her tone softening, attempting to bridge the sudden gap Harry's reaction had created.

“Yeah, okay. Now your night is with me instead of with your mysterious man,” Harry countered, half-teasing yet half-serious, as he settled next to her on the couch.

“You’re such a dad,” Y/n remarked, a blend of affection and exasperation in her voice.

“No, I just don’t want any mystery men around what's mine without me being here,” Harry retorted, his comment laced with a deeper, unspoken layer of concern.

“Or do you not want any men around me?” Y/n probed, her gaze locking with his, a challenge in her eyes.

“Aren’t you mine? I think what I said the first time makes sense,” Harry responded, his words hanging in the air, a mix of possessiveness and care mingled in his tone.

“My assistant, I mean,” he quickly added, clearing his throat, realizing the weight of his words and the ambiguity they carried.

“Oh, assistant, is that what you meant?” Y/n teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm, yet a soft smile played on her lips.

“Yeah, assistant,” Harry affirmed, the exchange leaving a tangible tension, a mix of amusement and unresolved feelings lingering between them.

[crochetedblorbos]

"Well, that's the real question, isn't it? Does my desire not to actively promote evil outweigh my fear of disappointing my parents?"

Character Name: Samama “Sam” Khalid

Fandom: The Magnus Protocol [podcast]

Voiced By: Shahan Hamza

Yarn Used: Soles: CraftSmart Value - White Shoes: Loops & Threads Soft Classic - Black Trousers: CraftSmart Value - Cornflower Jumper: CraftSmart Value - Ivy Skin: CraftSmart Value - Coffee Hair: Loops & Threads Soft Classic - Black

Basic pattern here.

Oh, Sam. Talk about being doomed by the narrative…our poor boy. After Episode 29, I was trying so hard to get him finished in time for the finale. Didn’t quite manage it, but I at least got him done before Season 2 starts. And, hey, at least on my side of things Alice can give him a hug. (Side note: I’ve actually had him done for WEEKS, but I messed up his mouth and had to fix it…a thing I definitely forgot to do until now. Which is why I’m posting him several weeks into S2 despite having him done well before the hiatus ended!)

Sam differs from the base pattern as follows:

Shoes: Hey, I remembered the different-colored soles again! Anyway, I figured he would wear basic trainers, so I did them the same way as I did Joseph’s.

Trousers: Sam strikes me as the kind of guy who dresses as casually as he can get away with in the office, unless something big is happening…like, say, a certain big-shot MP coming for an inspection. (Projecting? Me? Onto my blorbos? Surely you jest.) Anyway, I gave him a pair of nice, comfortable light-washed blue jeans.

Jumper: I decided to give Sam a turtleneck, only partly because I only had the jumper yarn with me and didn’t want to stop yet. He just seems like a turtleneck kind of guy. Anyway, the way I did that was to just continue with the shirt color up to where the chin starts, then switch to skin color and do the next round in back loops only.

Head: In the grand tradition of “Ollie overcomplicates everything”, I decided to give Sam curly hair. To do this, I used a popcorn stitch. Basically, for every other stitch on Sam’s scalp, I did four hdc, dropped the last loop, inserted through the first stitch, and pulled the loop through. It’s a cool effect, but good God, it took forever. For the bangs at the front, I decided to give him a few corkscrew curls, which are pretty easy - you just chain however many stitches you want to do, and then do a series of fans up the chain. I did some in sc and some in hdc. It was more or less random, I’m afraid, but I like the effect! I'm not super happy with how his mouth came out, but it's definitely better than my first attempt, and I'm not changing it again.

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Army Discretion

His mates hold a truth to their chests It's not theirs to share, even in jests They know that he covers All genders of lovers But John's careful, covert in his quests

Having thought about this a bit more over dinner, I should clarify they're only discreet about the men. And maybe partly because he's got a mean left hook.

There's more on Ao3.

@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @friday411 @weeesi

[the1975attheirverybest]

A Strange Encounter

A/N: requested Matty X writer OC is finally here. Sorry about the delay. Idk if this is a longer fic soft launch or not. Just a thing I wrote

Warnings: none

———-

Matty swore he could feel the sweat running down his back. He glanced around the room, his anxiety rising as he failed to spot any of the faces that he’d expected to see here tonight. He’d spent the better part of the year wearing ties onstage, but, for some reason, in this moment, his tie felt suffocating. He loosened it slightly but quickly fixed it back up, feeling like a fish out of water at this charity event.

Scanning the room for a quiet place to take refuge in, he spotted the open bar and rushed towards it.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbled to himself rushing in the direction of the free alcohol. As he approached the bar, he became aware of a solitary person, a woman, sitting atop one of the barstools, her back towards him, drinking alone. She turned around as she felt him get closer, giving him a polite nod.

He nodded in return, flashing her a quick smile.

“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender offered.

Matty almost ordered a glass of wine, but, on a whim, he turned towards the woman instead, “what’re you having?” he gestured towards her glass.

“A Cherry lime tequila.”

“is it any good?”

She nodded.

Matty turned back to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He sat at the other end of the bar, losing his battle against the tie.

Moments later, the bartender returned with Matty’s drink in hand. The woman watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Matty whispered a polite ‘thank you,’ and took a sip of his drink. She noticed his face scrunching as the drink pour down his throat.

“How is it?” She asked, pressing her lips together to hide her amused smile.

“G- uhh- good.” Matty lied. “I’m Matty, by the way.” He moved one bar stool closer.

“Claire.”

He smiled softly, thinking of the next thing to say.

“So…Claire, what’s your vibe?”

“My- vibe?”

Matty swore he could see her skin physically crawl. He giggled, embarrassed. “That- is the dumbest thing that I’ve ever said in my entire life.”

Something about the way that he could instantly poke fun at himself without looking self-conscious softened her towards him.

“Let me try this again. Like an adult: you hear for the writers’ charity thing?”

“I am.”

“Me too!” His tone was a bit more enthusiastic than he’d hoped. “I’m a songwriter.” He offered up, calmer now, adjusting his demeanor. “Never been to one of these things before. To be honest, I kind of hate them. Fuckin rich people trying to make themselves feel better about the dystopian world that they’re partly to blame for by hosting fuckin fundraisers and chairing charitable foundations.”

Claire took a sip of her half empty glass, nodding as Matty spoke.

“So, what about you. You a writer too?”

She smiled, “yeah, I am. Fiction, though.”

She could see a light flash across his face. He leaned in closer, “that’s fuckin cool. Anything I might have read?”

“No.”

Matty frowned at her immediate, emphatic answer. “Why- not? Are you not any good?”

“Oh, I am. I just…” she adjusted her feet underneath her, sitting up straight.

“Just what?”

“Just don’t think it’s the kind of fiction that you would read.”

Matty’s lips parted, ready for a retort, but none came. After a moment of silence, he finally thought of something. “You’ve only just met me. You don’t know what kind of fiction I read.” His tone has an edge to it, but he remained composed.

“Oh, but I do- guys like you- the hair gel, the

loose tie, the general aversion to formal settings…you probably read Jack Kerouac and Kurt Vonnegut, and, like, David Foster Wallace.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I’ve never read Vonnegut.”

His response caught her off guard, making her laugh.

“But, yeah I’ve read On The Road….and yeah I like David Foster Wallace.”

She had a triumphant look on her face. “Pale

King?”

“No, Infinite Jest, actually.” Matty watched her expression shift again. His turn to feel triumphant.

“You’ve read all of Infinite Jest?” She whispered, as if the revelation were some kind of secret.

“Twice.”

She studied him closely, pleased with the unexpected turn of their conversation.

“And…” Matty took a sip of his drink. “For your information, I also like Joan Didion, and Virginia Woolf, and Flannery O’Connor.”

She giggled, taking Matty aback by the effect that the sound of her laughter had on him. He looked away from his drink instantly, eyes focused on her.

“So you’re saying you’re not a complete cliche?”

He nodded. “Well, what about you, then? What kind of fiction do you like?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she heard his question, she leaned in to meet him halfway, but before she could speak, a well-dressed member of the venue staff approached her and whispered into her ear, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

She nodded, turning back to Matty with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I- I’m afraid I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Matty.”

For the second time tonight, Matty found himself speechless. He wanted to say something, anything at all, but when his lips parted, no sound came out. Instead, he watched her walk away, getting smaller and smaller the further she got away from him.

***

The rest of the night droned on as Matty attempted to make polite conversation with screenwriters, journalists, and authors of various kinds around his table. He couldn’t help pulling out his phone to check the time, every time there was a lull in conversation.

In front of him, the event organizer stepped onstage announcing that the last speaker of the night was up next. It would be the host of the fundraiser and chair of the organization, Claire Jones.

Matty’s head whipped around, looking up from his phone and watching as Claire took the stairs from the side of the stage, walking towards the lectern.

He recalled the snide comments that he’d made to her about his disdain for these kinds of events and the people who organize them. He felt embarrassed. She must think he’s a complete asshole. Unsure if he should be looking at her, or how to control his facial expressions appropriately, he decided he’d be better off staring at his shoes until her speech.

Matty thought that, realistically, her speech couldn’t have been more than a few minutes long, but it felt like ages. He struggled to even register her words as his own echoed in his head. He sat there, wondering if he should apologize, wondering if it mattered, if she cared one way or the other, and wondering why he cared so much.

The sound of applause filled the room, Claire Jones stepped off the stage, esteemed guests began to move around tables and mingle, shaking hands with each other, hugging, catching up, and exchanging numbers.

By the time that Matty had made his way to the other end of the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. He walked the perimeter of the room a couple of times, hoping to spot her, but when he failed to find her, he defeatedly meandered towards the exit, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The nighttime breeze was merciful on his face. He hadn’t realized that he’d felt suffocated until he’d made it outside. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, smoking his cigarette. He was surprised to find himself disappointed that he’d never see Claire again.

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

my good friend i'm curious. because i am Very Normal about characters and i know you are also Very Normal about characters i would like to know. is there any kuro character you love enough/have enough thoughts about to write an essay on them? and why? because i know we have many characters we both love and some we disagree on i'd love to hear a bit of in-depth stuff about your faves!!

I am so, so, very glad I received this ask 😭🙏🏼💐 you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for something like this!!!

Alright, I’m going to talk about one of my comfort characters: Mey-Rin.

And as this blog is for (semi-jokingly) slandering Sebastian, let me begin by saying that Seabass absolutely does not deserve this girl:

I mean, just look at her. 😭🙏🏼

Where do I begin?

First off, I feel like she’d be sharper and more perceptive than she gets credit for. I don’t buy that she doesn’t suspect a thing about Sebastian. She’d know something is very, very off about him from the start, even if he does show her kindness she’s seldom experienced before. I also think that’s the reason she wouldn’t have acted upon the crush she had on him - not just because she isn’t sure of his own feeling towards her, but also because something tells her it wouldn’t end well.

These observational skills are also partly why she’s more emotionally intelligent than she thinks. She truly is the mum friend - very helpful, very protective, and always someone you can come to with your problems. If you’ve noticed, she’s fretting over Finny, Bard, Ciel and Seb at several points in the manga. I also see her as the sort who worries more than she should, especially about those she cares for. This would also make her quite the overthinker - the sort to worry about stuff after it happens as she’s often in situations where she needs to act in the moment.

Although she’s primarily a long-range fighter, I do think she’d know her stuff when it comes to hand-to-hand combat - enough to help her in sticky situations. She’s lived on the streets for a lot of her formative years, so she would know how to remain aware of her surroundings and have a mean right hook. I also write her as more assertive than in canon. Partly because I wish we got to see her shine more, and partly because I think it would be a given if you look at her backstory and what all she’s had to survive.

I also enjoy portraying her as the sort who lowkey has a sassy side, but only once she gets comfortable enough with the person for them to know it’s all in jest coming from her. She’d make a wisecrack and then apologise for roasting them. 😂😭

Now, going back to her and Sebastian because I still have more to say: I’m also not a Sebamey shipper as I don’t like how quite a few fics shipping her with Sebastian portray her as his doormat or some damsel in distress 😭 but even if that’s not the case, just the fact that it’s a canon possibility he’d use her just as he used Beast lowkey puts me off. I’ll still read fics in which he’s a good partner to her, though - they’re fun.

I also like to think that while she is infatuated with Sebastian at first, it eventually turns into an “I admire him and aspire to be as good at my job” sort of thing. I think she developed a crush on him because he was one of the few men who showed her genuine kindness - even if it’s part of his act. I think most of the men she’s come across were the opposite - and that she’d also had some genuinely scary experiences with them (which I have implied in my works with her). I also don’t think she’d trust them in a hurry, even if she appears unbothered by men she meets at first.

About her life after she starts working at the manor: much like any other woman, all she wants is to feel desirable, especially when she gets to dress and live as one properly.

I also think that she’s a romantic at heart who loves the idea of finding someone who loves her for who she is, although she probably feels it’s all but a pipe dream. I think she’s probably had an experience or two before - probably fleeting ones. Living out most of her life pretending to be a man meant she didn’t have many opportunities at all for this sort of thing, even on the down low. So she hasn’t had any proper experiences with romance. I’m remembering the panel in which she’s extremely flustered after Ronald flirts with her, saying that’s the first time she’s been hit on. I like to interpret that as her feeling like this is the first time someone has made genuine romantic advances towards her.

As for her hobbies and any other interests outside of her job… I don’t know why, but I see her as the artsy kind with humanities girl energy. She seems like the sort who’d be a great artist and surprisingly good at painting. I also like to think she’d try to read more after Sebastian teaches her how to, often using a small part of her wages to buy novels (she loves both the macabre ones and the sappy romantic ones, lol). She’d underline any word she doesn’t know, probably asking Sebastian what it means later on.

I’d like to know more about her pastimes, likes, dislikes, and her as a character overall in canon as well. There’s still potential to expand upon a great deal.

That’s it for now on her! I’m going to do Othello next 😂 and then Ludger, mayhaps - or William and Grelle. My brain isn’t working today, so apologies for any vagueness or if I didn’t explain myself too clearly dhfjdkdb 😭

[red-haired-elf]

Kayden being kind of a regular here I figured he could have a more proper post 🌱

Kayden leans towards the classic runaway story. The thrilled prince got to experience the city on his own, and at the beginning had a delightful spring in his step to finally freely be among his people. But during his day out an alarming amount of city folk would whisper quietly over uncomfortable subject matters and friendly civilians turned fearful when recognizing Kayden's royal blood. A very bitter realization was grasped over how frightening and iron fisted father really was. This led to confronting the king, heating up to the point where the disgusted prince bitingly said that any leader whose people are afraid and only takes is nothing but a parasite. This offense was dealt with a swift hard crack across the face, knocking Kayden back off his feet and a grim promise to withdraw his already given "privileges". Kayden said nothing, but did not hide the expression on his face of barely contained rage behind wet eyes. His father was strict but never laid a hand until that moment, and Kayden decided once was all it was ever going to be. He sliced his long hair, took a few valuables and his griffin, leaving at the nearest window of opportunity. Upon learning about the defiant escape the king was furious and put forth a reward for the boy's return, if not partly out of spite over his son's "not giving anything back" remark.

Somewhere after a couple weeks of newfound freedom he met a group of four men who seemed amicable enough, engaging in friendly talk and jest. But once stepping into an isolated area the leader admits they figured out his identity and warned that the prince can come along with them the easy way, or do it the hard way; since nothing was said about having to be brought back in one piece. A terrifying struggle followed before Kayden took off when the chance arrived, flying over the towering trees as fast as he desperately could. His adrenaline eventually wore off and the pain demanded him to quickly choose the soonest place of likely refuge, circling down into a countryside community and landing in no other than Sorrel's backyard. The shocked centaur who was doing his morning routine of feeding chickens rushed to the injured boy's side as soon as the faun fell off his griffin. Kayden stayed with Sorrel until he felt well enough to try another chance at a new life, and is forever grateful to the kindness and positive outlook this once stranger has given him.

::Character Traits and other info::

Race: Deer Faun

Age: 14-15

Height: Average, like usual-at least not short

Birthday: December 5th (Sagittarius sun)

Kayden loves nothing more than to explore and make friends along the way! Anyone especially close gets sibling status- Sorrel gets this honor first, and is his best friend.

The second youngest of 5 children. He's closest to his mother, sister (the oldest) and little brother. The two older boys are unfortunately  influenced a lot by the father, so Kayden made sure to be a positive male influence for his little sibling by giving him lots of verbal and physical affection.

The fur and spear were obtained to distance himself as much as possible from his original look to hide his identity. He goes through different gear, but the lack of restriction and what his covering symbolizes makes it his favorite. The rush of wind on his skin, the sun shining, the light mist of rain- makes him feel alive.

Kayden is his new name; the less others know his original title the better

Having his or others well being in danger is bad enough but freedom threatened is quick to fill him with fury. Kayden is very friendly as the default but getting on his bad side is terrifying.

The deer half heightens certain abilities such as hearing, sight, smell, strength and speed. His legs are strong and can place a blurry painful kick. He will pick up an object to inspect with a sniff, and a stranger might have him nose inspecting the air (not directly in someone's face, but at a healthy distance). He can see relatively well in the dark.

Shy? Hardly! Just on the rare occasion. He can feel embarrassment though of course, just not easily since he can poke fun at himself and see the positive in situations.

Can play the harp; it was a dreamy escape while in the castle.

When Kayden is deep in thought or trying to suppress his rage, his manner of speaking changes so much he’s almost an entirely different person. He’s fully a noble prince in those moments.

Kayden loves a good joke; the dumber it is, the better! And because he was raised to have impeccable manners he can be very silly from the thrill of doing what he wants now ( or as a middle finger if he's feeling spiteful to his upbringing). Eat with a fork and knife? How about two forks or two knives instead?

Is incredibly bold and will go where few dare to tread (he jokes that his father is the scariest thing alive so he can handle anything). He loves treasure hunting for the thrill and adventure but not interested in keeping much of it, giving most away.

[inbarfink]

It is kind of telling that this woman Simon meet one time by chance suddenly decided to drop everything to follow him on a expedition to find an artifact that might not even exist after a single, pretty short, conversation, and he just... doesn't question it for a moment and goes "Okay!".

@clueless-rarito

Yeeeep, you hit that right on the money! Especially since his 'offer' for her to come was clearly done as, like, kind of a joke. He said that in jest

But Betty, in her infatuation with Doctor Petrikov and, like, general impulsiveness, saw this an opportunity and just leapt at it.

And Simon went along with it, partly because he's just too passive against Betty's incredible forwardness to be like "Hey, um, what about your own study tour you literally just mentioned? That also sounds important.....Also I don't know you." and also because Betty gave him a whole bunch of Validation that he seldom ever gets.

Like, that's the reason for that whole "THEY LAUGHED AT ME AT THE UNIVERSITY" plot beat in this flashback.

Betty was one of the few people to actually appreciated Simon's work and like... talked about him like he's this great brilliant researcher ("THE Simon Petrikov") and that was a mega-shot of validation he probably never got before. Yet another reason why he was so quick to take her up on that offer despite all the red flags.

And also, Betty being his first and often only source of Validation is probably the main reason why Simon's self image plummeted after Betty 'left' him and caused him to develop his own self-sacrificial tendencies.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Ray x Sand in Episode 2 Preview

This episode is likely to follow Ray and Sand's burgeoning friendship after their 'truce'. And we're off to see Ray's plush home. (Can we talk about Ray's furry cardigan look? It makes him look so smol/soft).

What I noticed is that Ray does not look stir crazy drunk here, if at all. That's a considerable green flag because Ray is choosing (whether unconsciously or intentionally) to spend time with Sand whilst he isn't massively under the influence. And alcohol is a huge crutch for him. There's something about this that warms my heart, especially when his group of friends love drinking and getting raucous - it's sort of reassuring to see Ray spend time with someone just as he is.

"That girl at the bar was cute. Is she your type?" "Has any guy hit on you before?" This is very early 'testing the waters' and being nosy dialogue. Ray's trying to see how open or personal Sand can be with him, whilst also finding out which way Sand swings.

Ray does find Sand attractive, but it's more curiosity or intrigue each of them has for the other at this stage, rather than anything overtly romantic. Besides, Ray still has feelings for his best friend at present.

Another little detail is Ray has records mounted on his walls, so seems to also have a keen interest in music. The two are seen record shopping together later on. We're also going to get the cigarette kiss. (Lord please explain to me why on earth they are so ungodly hot when smoking?)

Sand stays the night at Ray's, but seemingly just to sleep. Ray even does a sneaky peek at Sand as soon as he wakes up. It's actually adorable to see how clingy Ray is with Sand already. This boy clearly feels very comfortable with him. I mean - one night of friendship - and let's cuddle? Ray is obviously someone who likes being physically affectionate or touchy feely. It does make you wonder if he lives in a huge house all by himself and is understandably lonely.

This is also where Sand suggests he see a shrink (which is delivered partly in jest but also somewhat seriously). Could be a comment on Ray's drinking problem, or something further comes to light during their heart to heart that Sand picks up on.

Now this is the intriguing scene for me. Ray is wearing the same outfit he does at the strip club (white shirt, denim jacket number). It looks like Sand ends up crossing his path and is not happy with what he finds - as he's seen storming away. Firstly, what is he doing there? Did he follow Ray? Or is he also there by coincidence? Secondly, is this jealousy or he just doesn't approve of what and why Ray is there? Thirdly, Ray seems compelled to explain himself when Sand reacts in this way. Ohh am I sensing a pattern: (Ray does something to upset Sand, Sand gets in a huff, Ray pleads for forgiveness, and then they kiss and make-up. Cough.)

They seem to end up at Ray's house again. Unless this is actually the other way around, and they pre-drink at Ray's before heading to the strip club together.

My understanding is they don't sleep with each other until the kiss at Sand's place (on his balcony). So I'm guessing this episode is mostly going to be these two getting to know one another better.

[piotrtymcio]

Listopad

Panasonic DC-TZ90

[EN] Good morning. The year is coming to an end, which means it’s time for reflections and changes. Transformations. One such transformation will involve this blog. I haven’t fully figured out what it will look like yet. However, I have the feeling that some paths in my life are leading nowhere.

This photo wasn’t randomly chosen. I picked it. Ideally, it would’ve been taken in December. I could even lie and say it’s from December—who would care? Nonetheless, it reflects my mood during this dreary November-December-crappy season. I’m struggling.

I’m struggling with the lack of sunlight and the lousy weather. With a renovation that’s taken away my kitchen for months. I’m eating junk ready-meals from the corner store that don’t do anything good for me or my mood. I’ve let various factors take over my life. Why?

Because it’s easier. It’s easier to heat up a pre-made meal at work than to try and cook without a kitchen. It’s easier to stay indoors because the weather is awful. It’s easier to randomly select a photo than to choose one with intention. But is that really me? Partly, yes.

There’s something comforting about putting certain things on autopilot and letting them happen. It’s nice not to choose. It makes sense. Steve Jobs had seven pairs of identical pants, socks, and shirts. He didn’t choose. Willpower is finite. If we waste it on trivialities, we won’t have the energy to make the truly important decisions. That’s the crux of it.

It’s time to reevaluate certain values and attitudes. Time to stop random selection. Maybe even time to stop posting every single goddamn day. Seriously! I’ve been doing it for years (not just here), and what has it led to?

And this isn’t the only thing I need to confront. There are plenty. At this moment, as I write this, I don’t know where I’m headed. But the decision to change direction has already been made. I’m setting out on a journey to rediscover myself. I just need to remember where I am first.

[PL] Dzień Dobry. Rok się kończy więc przychodzi czas na podsumowania i zmiany. Transformacje. Jedna z takich transformacji obejmie tego bloga. Jeszcze do końca nie przemyślałem jak będzie to wyglądać. Mam jednak wrażenie, że pewne ścieżki w moim życiu prowadzą donikąd.

To zdjęcie nie zostało wylosowane. Wybrałem je. Idealnie byłoby, żeby było z grudnia. Mógłbym nawet skłamać, że jest grudniowe i kogo by to obeszło? Nie mniej jednak oddaje ono mój nastrój w tym listopadowo - grudniowo - chujowym okresie. Cierpię.

Cierpię z powodu braku słońca, kiepskiej pogody. Remontu który odebrał mi kuchnię na parę miesięcy. Jem gówniane gotowce z żabki które nie specjalnie wpływają dobrze na mnie i moje samopoczucie. Pozwoliłem różnym czynnikom zawładnąć moim życiem. Dlaczego?

Bo jest łatwiej. Łatwiej jest odgrzać gotowca w pracy niż próbować coś zrobić bez kuchni. Łatwiej jest nie wychodzić bo kiepska pogoda. Łatwiej jest wylosować zdjęcie niż wybrać je z intencją. Tylko czy to na prawdę jestem ja? Poniekąd.

Fajnie jest puścić pewne rzeczy na autopilocie i pozwolić by działy się same. Fajnie jest nie wybierać. To ma duży sens. Steve Jobs miał 7 par takich samych spodni, skarpet, koszul. Nie wybierał. Silna wola jest skończona. Jeśli będziemy poświęcać uwagę na pierdoły to zabraknie nam sił na podjęcie tych na prawdę ważnych decyzji. To jest sedno.

Przyszedł czas na rewaluację pewnych wartości i postaw. Czas skończyć losowanie. Być może nawet czas skończyć z postowanie każdego jednego, jebanego dnia. Serio! Robię to od kilku lat. (Poza tym blogiem) i co z tego wynikło?

I to nie jest jedyna rzecz z którą muszę się skonfrontować. Jest ich sporo. W tej chwili, kiedy to piszę, nie wiem dokąd mam pójść ale to, że zmieniam kierunek jest już postanowione. Wyruszam w podróż, żeby odnaleźć siebie. Tylko najpierw muszę sobie przypomnieć gdzie jestem.

[tidalhaired]

@wintersovereign said: "Elrond, you know justice is a dish best served cold ..." She tried to keep herself from laughing but a little snort escaped her. "Otherwise, it's just water."

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her playful jest. A smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head, partly at himself for failing to maintain a composed demeanor and partly at Elsa for even conjuring such a remark.

"Please..that was-" he began, only to be overtaken by laughter once more. His grey eyes, alight with mirth, sought hers as amusement danced between them. "Well, you are not wrong."

[zenosyneee]

Chapter VIII WIP: Out of the Hells

In this chapter, we discover just how far Orin is willing to go to get revenge on the sister she despises- even if it means taking her place in Astarion's mind.

Content warning: Adult themes, suggestive and explicit content, fantasy violence, and memories of Astarion's past trauma. Orin the Red's shapeshifting antics and manipulation.

As always please let me know what you think of this work in progress- what you liked and didn't like, and what you hope to see in the rest of the story. I didn't proofread just yet, just posted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amidst all his turbulent inner thoughts and the uncomfortable emotions that were chasing him tonight, Astarion turned his eyes to the water beneath the glowing moon on the wide open beach. The waves danced upward as if to reach towards the stars, begging for the chance to take flight in the night sky.

"A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?"

Astarion despised the feelings within his chest now, the feelings that he had repressed and hidden away for two hundred years. Anger and resentment muddied any semblance of respite he tried to chase this evening- and he felt that the progress he had made in coming to terms with his simple plan was dashed now.

But he was feeling, after all. For the first time in two centuries he was feeling. He wasn't mindlessly and soullessly pacing the streets at night in his endless hunt for his master- his otherworldly hunger eating away at his will to go on for another moment.

Just as his eyelids began to grow heavier, he noted something stirring within the shallow waters in front of him. His eyes snapped open and he could have sworn his undead heart did a flip in his chest. The crystalline ripples of the water that had been crashing onto the sand parted slightly to reveal a familiar face.

"Zenosyne?" he called out.

"Astarion."

"What are you doing?" He asked, and inwardly chiding himself for the silly question. Of course she wanted to be in the water, for her own sake. The siren craved the sea, naturally.

"Oh, Astarion." She called again, gesturing calmly for him to join her.

Her hands reached out towards him as she emerged from the sea- her skin glowing with the blues and greens of the evening sky and the setting sun. She looked the same, but different. She didn't wear the colorful beads that often adorned her chest, but black pearls gathered around her beckoning form instead. Some of the strands loosely hung from her neck, and some sat tightly on her wet skin- the flesh underneath sensuously begging to be set free. He let his eyes wander for a moment. He wanted to pull at the pearls and watch as the strands broke into a million pieces under his grip, like stars erupting from the heavens only to reveal what he desired beneath.

"Oh, Astarion what?" He asked incredulously. He rolled his eyes with feigned annoyance. The siren's attention was fixed on him still, each movement he made studied by her eager eyes. He walked up to the shore where she lay now, and stood over where she rested out in the shallows. His eyes darted back and forth between hers', trying to ascertain whether or not the dark urges had been settling in her mind again. She did seem different somehow, but it was not the dark urges that he saw in her far-off gaze.

The siren reached up to him again, her hands running over his sand covered torso. She kneeled with her shimmering tail still partly beneath the waves, and the water pooled around them both with bubbling foam. When each wave crashed up onto the shore, it crashed into their bodies- pushing and pulling them in every direction. It was as if the sea were pulling him closer to her with each rushing tide.

"I can see this very scene being the cover of our spicy little novel." He jested, hoping to rouse a giggle from her. She seemed utterly serious, and he wanted to see if he could chip away at that hardened exterior of hers' once again.

She didn't blink an eye- but a tiny hint of confusion was evident in her countenance. She didn't seem to dwell on this, though, pulling on his arms with more force than she had ever used before when toying playfully with him.

Astarion fell down onto his knees along with her now, the water splashing violently into their faces- his silver hair now wet and clinging to his pale neck. He felt that sensation again- the one where he thought his undead heart might be beating again as she grasped his face with dominant resolve.

He wasted no more time, and his hands pulled gently at the black pearls that were between her skin and his. He pressed his chest up against hers' for leverage, and let his knuckles pale as he wrapped his fingers around the glistening strands with more force. It brought her chest upwards and forced her shoulders back, her face tilted to the sky.

"Say the word." He whispered. His lips were inches from Zeno's, and his fists remained tightly wrapped around her pearl top.

"Please."

[bybdolan]

hi genuinely can't tell if your tag on that post about taylor being heterosexual was sarcastic or not could you please clarify..not that you have to obvi! was just wondering haha

no no it was 100% genuine lmao. Obviously it is partly In jest because i do not know her personally and these quotes and lyrics are nearly a decade old, but personally I have never related to the way Taylor talks about dating because a lot of it feels very steeped in rather traditional gender roles - only my very straight friends talk about men in terms of "There are boys and there are MEN", y'know? I mean, due to her economic position and the sheer Power she holds Taylor is automatically subverting traditional gender roles in relationships, and I think it is super important to talk about that, and I have also voiced my discomfort with the way many people automatically assume Taylor MUST want a manly man, because that simply reinforces stereotypes. Yet, when you look at the things Taylor actually says about men, her ideal guy seems to hold many traits that are deemed traditionally masculine, and Taylor herself is also very Girl in a lot of ways. Which is cute and all well and good - I personally find it kind of near-sighted to automatically apply her desire for breaking through gender stereotypes in the music industry to her personal relationships as well. Idk man, I think generally the Subverting Gender Norms and Femininity! edge people ascribe to Taylor on occassion feels a tad misplaced, considering we are talking about a woman who has always made it very clear that her Power or Influence or Business Mind do not take away from her Femininity and dare I say Girlishness. "I want to wear pink and tell you how I feel about politics" comes to mind. Also, just to make it clear: I do not think wanting A Man or talking about relationships the way Taylor does is wrong or regressive or whatever. I fucking love girl talk like that!